Freedom isn't Free
by Sephielya J. Maxwell
Summary: After so long with Russia, can Lithuania go back to life with Poland so easily?


Posting my kink!meme fills here, where I went as Liet!Anon!

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Independence. It tasted every bit as good as the first time—but even better. Because this time there was no going back, and he was going to make sure of that. He was working on his relations with other nations now, even Poland who he'd fought with in his last brief stretch of freedom. And speaking of Poland...

The blond had been coming around more and more often lately, and it was Lithuania's only real escape from the sudden strike of loneliness that was setting in. He couldn't remember a length of time when he had been alone, after all. For well over two-hundred years he had been living with Poland, then his brothers and Russia, America, and then he had been keeping relations with Germany until Russia had taken him back. Perhaps it was the reason that he'd fallen so much into taking care of other people, for everyone he'd ever lived with had a bad habit of letting themselves get too wrapped up in everything else to take care of themselves...

And Poland, well, he didn't seem to have changed at all... He was still pushy, teasing, affectionate, and loud. It was as refreshing as it was tiring. He was thankful, as he had been very worried about him after WWII. By now, he doubted anything could crush his long time friend's spirit. Unfortunately, that also meant that he didn't give up easily...

The blond had been more than obvious about his intentions for his neighboring nation. Light kisses, lingering touches and slow hugs. Sometimes they were subtle, and sometimes they surprised the brunette with their boldness. And each time Lithuania had managed to carefully back out of the situation, and to his credit, Poland had not followed. So how then, had he ended up in this situation?

Lips tasted of the honeyed cakes that he'd made for a snack—cooking being one of the things that Lithuania used to starve off his loneliness in the time that he didn't spend on his new government. The kisses were breathless, passionate, and tender. Untrained, he thought in the back of his mind. And here he thought that Poland would have had many partners by now... It reminded him of all their youthful adventures, innocent and sweet. It wasn't enough...

_Kisses were deep and hard, and lasted until he couldn't breathe. __**His**__ lips were pale and smooth and wet, and they would latch themselves onto his neck next, raising stinging marks as his hands..._

Lithuania surprised the blond when he deepened the kiss, pressing harder against his friend as Poland's hands began to wander over his clothed body. The hands were searching, caressing, testing. Perhaps trying to remember the brunette's lithe, yet taller frame. It made Liet strangely impatient. And those hands, they were small, not large and strong. They didn't know where to touch him, rub him, what to do to make him writhe...

_The way that __**he **__touched him was possessive. Those large hands and long fingers were not searching but teasing, knowing exactly where to go after having mapped out every inch of the brunette's bare skin. Even over his clothing they could bring him to whimpers of pleasure._

The most forceful thing that Poland did was to push him back onto the bed, and Lithuania met those green eyes with his own, at last noticing the spark of the blond's possessive nature in his gaze. _If you want to take me from Ivan, _Liet thought silently, _you have to do it with this, not futile rebellions and war. _They'd tried twice before after all, to liberate themselves from their oppressors. Not even the both of them together had been able to accomplish it. And then the seizing of the Vilnius territory, Poland's most direct act of trying to re-obtain his long lost friend. He'd learned his mistake then, for the action had indirectly sent Lithuania right back into Russia's hands. Or, arms as it was...

Poland was stripping off his clothing, a wry smile on his face as his body was revealed. Lithuania couldn't lie, Poland had a wonderful body. It was smaller than his own, and slender but surprisingly well shaped. Full lips, slender neck, small shoulders, narrow hips, ample ass, and legs any woman would kill for. It seemed to spark a rare feeling of aggressiveness in the brunette, the desire to hold his oldest friend down and switch their current roles. But no, he would let the blond have his way for now. Poland reminded him of a cat as he climbed onto the bed, grinning wickedly.

_**He **__always fell over him like a larger predator, even before he'd undressed himself. __**He **__would take up the kisses again, as those hands of his swift, careless enough to snap a few buttons loose, stripping him bare while touching as much of his favorite as possible._

Soft fingers undid each button with care—clothing was important to Poland after all, even if it wasn't anything particularly valuable or fashionable. Lithuania became nervous this way, realizing that there were many things about his body that the blond didn't know about. The scars, mostly. In the end he'd helped him just so that he could get it over with, his clothing ending up in a pile on the floor. Poland was easily distracted by new kisses and touches, thankfully. Though the blond did pause when he felt the scars, and his pained and angered look only made Lithuania even more upset.

_Oh, how __**he **__had loved those scars. Almost as if he hadn't been the one to create them, they fascinated him.__** He**__ would kiss them, trace them with his tongue, map them with his calloused fingers...__**He**__ had come to make the brunette used to them, to accept them as a part of himself, despite—or maybe because of the fact that they were made by the hands of the violet-eyed man._

Lithuania distracted him with harsh and needy kisses. _Don't think of them, _he pleaded in his mind, _think of me. They are a part of me, not aside from me. A testament of my mistakes, not a badge of shame! _Thankfully Poland seemed to agree, though he specifically avoided touching any of them for the duration of their liaison, alienating them. Liet couldn't tell if it was because Poland thought it would make it easier for the brunette, or if it pained the blond too much personally.

When the probing fingers finally came, they were slender and slick, hurried but gentle. He paused at every flinch or sound that Lithuania made, despite the fingers digging into the blond's shoulders, and he heavy breaths that urged him to hurry with it.

_**Him**__, when he remembered, or when the brunette protested enough, he would move through the task swiftly. Rarely teasing, __**he**__ would slide each finger into him just swiftly enough to cause a flash of pain before the soothed it away with dutiful thrusts and wiggling of his entrapped digits. Sometimes on rare occasions, perhaps when he'd had a bit too much to drink to properly fuck the brunette, he would watch his favorite writhe and whimper on the end of his long fingers instead. It was as torturous as it was pleasurable, and Toris had actually come to anticipate those nights along with the rest..._

Poland treated him like a virgin, and not the experienced lover that he was. He didn't need gentle, he needed _now._ Lithuania's face burned with a blush as the blond finally moved into place, the brunette grasping his friends shoulders as his legs wrapped about the slender waist above him. His body was throbbing, aching, craving... _God, _he thought, _how dirty has __**he **__made me? _And when the other thrust into him, he caught his breath in a gasp. This feeling of being filled, being loved so fully and completely... He wanted it, needed it. More of it.

Poland's thrusts were fast, and somewhat shallow. Ah, no, maybe not so much shallow as not as deep as Liet was used to. The blond was lost in the sensations, eyes closed as he seemed to keep his pace without abandon. And well, at least that was familiar... Lithuania closed his eyes as well, letting his head fall back into the pillow.

_Every thrust that __**he **__made was like an unstoppable force. They would jolt his smaller body each time, specially when he began to move back against him. So incredibly full, so impossibly deep...! Each rock of __**his **__hips sending dual sensations of slight pain mixed with undeniable pleasure as he struck the brunette's spot without fail, even if by accident._

Currently, Lithuania grasped Poland's shoulders tighter, nails digging in slightly as he rose his hips into every thrust, trying desperately to obtain this lost feeling of completeness.

_Heavy breath fell over his face and neck, hot and usually with the scent of vodka._

Not sweet as honey like now.

_Hands gripped his hips like an inescapable vice, likely to leave bruises in the morning._

The hands that should be holding him were on the bed, fisted into the sheets beside him—as touching his hips might mean touching a scar from where a whip lash had wrapped around. Even so, Lithuania was growing close.

_The brunette was helpless against the pureness of his physical awareness. Pain, pleasure, and the building pressure in his belly. Vulnerable and powerless against the onslaught of emotions that ran through him. This man, the man who had hurt him so deeply that he sometimes felt he would never be whole again... This man who filled that void with himself, and willingly let his favorite into __**his**__ own deep wounds..._

The sound of the shout in his ear was all wrong when Poland came, but it still spurred his own reaction—without his own neglected member even being touched. And in a low whisper, Lithuania came as well.

"_Ivan..._!"

Looks like he wasn't so free after all.


End file.
